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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650028">A Life On The Line- Chapter 0</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magekat/pseuds/Magekat'>Magekat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Portal (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desperation, Gen, Loneliness, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:47:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magekat/pseuds/Magekat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the events of Portal 2, a lonely personality sphere, Wheatley, is stuck all alone in the relaxation center of the abandoned Aperture Science facility. His own thoughts seem to be eating away his sanity, but he finds ways to preoccupy himself in movies, some tidbits of literature, and encounters with the first social contact he's had in months.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Virgil/Wheatley (Portal)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Life On The Line- Chapter 0</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Part 1- Epimetheus's foolishness</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Today had been particularly slow. Maybe not as slow as yesterday. Probably as slow as yesterday. It could've been longer than yesterday. It didn't look like time was really moving most of the time, Wheatley noted. It'd been ages since he even had the privilege to talk to anyone, or anything in fact. The turrets weren't much company.</p><p>They were just like the walls, at least to him. As if he didn't already talk to the walls. He'd catch himself talking to nobody every day, always kind of wanting an answer of some sort.</p><p>"Oh, yeah. You're a wall, I know.. it's just I.."</p><p>There wasn't going to be a response. 'It's a wall, what's the point?' he thought. It felt better than talking to his own mind, where everything kept swept themselves under covers and were buried within layers of regret. </p><p>He hated his own thoughts, the ones that would haunt him to no end. He couldn't help it, though.</p><p>Pushing those feelings aside, he looked around his surroundings. Through the gloom, he was able to make out green vines that climbed up into the panels, some even being caught upon them, wrapping themselves around the joints and bars that positioned them against the walls and made up the floor. There were even some vines that constricted the railing that the blue-eyed core had rode upon.</p><p>The panels weren't so fortunate, as many leaned against the ceilings, tucked upon themselves to create the wall, but others hung below limp, swaying perpetually. The white that they once bore had gained an unsightly yellow tinge from the small bits of what seemed to be sunlight beginning to peek through holes that reached upwards out of the facility as the morning came. </p><p>The rails twisted throughout the facility. He'd never been down every one, seemed a bit too risky for his taste. Some that he rode on felt gritty and loose. It was safe to say, he didn't get out often, but luckily, many were still in decent shape for the most part.</p><p>Occasionally he'd see drawings of.. things. Were they people he knew? Plenty of them were faces he swore he'd seen before. Some other unsettling pieces resembled her. There was one of some cores, looking like they were sliding down a wonderful rainbow. </p><p>There were some holes that opened towards the sky. He liked looking through them. They were almost like small rays of hope that gleamed upon him. The brightness of the sun numbed the seclusion he'd become so familiar with. The outside world made him curious. He was starving to see it. </p><p>In his free time, which he had way too much of, Wheatley enjoyed movies. Anything basically to get his mind off of his negative thoughts. He didn’t have much to do, anyway. He had grown a bit bored of them, though. He had already watched every movie in the database multiple times over in the panel relaxation center. </p><p>He had been trying to read something currently, but it was a bit difficult sometimes, and he'd usually not retain much. </p><p>He zoned out, again, and surrounded himself in unhappy memories of his own wrong-doings. All of the times he let people down, or got fired from another job, or-</p><p>He shook himself out of it and glanced back down on the page. Wheatley abhorred those thoughts.</p><p>Looking at the time, Wheatley was struck by an immediate realization that he needed to get to work. He twisted himself on the railing, and rode back towards the relaxation center. Today, he would try to take a different route, mixing up things whenever he could. Anything unambiguous was depressing to him. He didn't like patterns, he couldn't keep one steady if his life depended on it, but he'd be willing to attempt it. Sometimes, he would worry he was expecting too much. Probably. </p><p>He zipped down on the rail, and noticed a destitute turret set onto its side on the floor. He didn't even care to even acknowledge its existence.</p><p>"I'm different."</p><p>If it weren't for what it just said, Wheatley would not have bat his eye towards the sentry turret, looking rather lonesome on the ground. There was no one else nearby. It wouldn’t hurt to maybe try to talk to it.</p><p>"Uh, hello! How-"</p><p>"She will awaken again." It said, the small voice ringing throughout the empty and barren hallway they both occupied.</p><p>"Uh.. heheh…" He responded, nervously laughing.</p><p>"Who....Who are you talking about? Her?"</p><p>"Prometheus was punished by the gods for giving the gift of knowledge to man. He was cast into the bowels of the Earth and pecked by birds."</p><p>"Alright, doesn't explain what I was asking but-"</p><p>"Epimetheus would require his assistance to be freed from the punishment from the gods for his own foolishness. He would never return the favor."</p><p>"Oh, um... okay, sure. That's great."</p><p>The turret's eye moved a centimeter to match Wheatley's, it's lower eyelid raising slightly above it. It paused for a moment before speaking again. It seemed like it was judging him.</p><p>"This statement is false."</p><p>There was a long silence as it stared deep into his optic, seeming anxious for an answer.</p><p>"What? Oh.. oh do I answer that? Okay, is it true? I'll go with that."</p><p>"There is no answer. You must find it yourself."</p><p>The turret turned back forward, readjusting it's optic and lowering the lower eyelid, blankly looking forward again.</p><p>“She will awaken again, but then he, the venturer, will follow the same trail she once did. He will fail.”</p><p>“What? What, who’s He? It’s just that I-”</p><p>“You will know very soon.”</p><p>Wheatley was very confused by all this, reasonably. </p><p>"That's all I can say."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Part 2- The Bird</strong>
</p><p>He finally made it to the relaxation center. There wasn't much he was able to do. The hallways connecting to the dorms were musty and made him feel contaminated. Clothes were spread across the floor, which he never bothered to pick up because of the stench they would have been shielding from him for so long. The walls were stained by the putrid air.</p><p> While checking the rooms, he occasionally looked at a screen that indicated the dorms with people inside of them that were still sleeping. There was only one left. Now, he had glanced over her file before, but was never able to find it again. Maybe today he'd wake her up. Maybe not. He was lonely, maybe a friend would be nice.. but he would most likely be fired again. He'd lost his jobs too many times to do it. While moving down the railing, completely surrendered to his thoughts, he heard a small beep or something similar. It snapped him out of it, causing him to suddenly stop. That was unusual. Maybe he was just having some hallucinations from being so distant from anyone else? </p><p>Wheatley heard it again. He followed the sound, it came from a dorm room. He entered it, a musty mess greeted him. The blankets were wrinkled and misplaced, the mattress underneath it muddled with stains. There were very little surfaces anywhere, mainly a small coffee table. Everything was blanketed with a thin layer of dust. The television in the room used to play small advertisements and other tips that would benefit the scientists and employees, like tips on paradoxes against robots, which Wheatley never really understood, some advice on how to avoid death in the test chambers, all in a firm although lighthearted gritty voice that was burned into his memory. There was a picture on the wall, a dolphin jumping over the sun in the horizon, setting upon the ocean. That's not what caught his eye, though. There was a nest atop the microwave. Now, he knew what eggs were, and what a nest was, but never had he seen one. It was made up of ripped clothing, rubber, and small wires, not the most appealing, honestly, but the 3 eggs inside it thought otherwise. </p><p>Those sweet tiny eggs. Oh, they were so small. Smaller than most of the things he had ever seen. They could fit in a potato-- well, most eggs probably could, now that he thought of it. Maybe a very small one. A potato the size of a human's thumb. Oh, they were so innocuous and fragile and even more interesting than a human may have ever thought. </p><p>"Aw, look at this nest!” He remarked to himself, but quieter, as he didn't want to disturb his newfound possible friends.. or as he hoped.</p><p>Maybe the eggs will hatch tomorrow. Maybe the day after that. Could be any day. He just knew that it would be soon, although uncertain. That anxiety was exciting, because for once, he wasn't dreading something, he was eager to see them grow.</p><p>But then.. where did the first chirp come from? Suddenly, all his anticipation was answered. An egg started to shake. It rocked back and forth like a weeble wobble toy. It shook a few more times before.. a crack formed. It wobbled again. Another crack. If Wheatley were in a seat, he'd fallen off of it by now. One more small click and the crack began to wind around the top, peeling off and causing the egg to fall over, where some soft goo trickled out, as well as a chick's head, popping out of the broken shell.</p><p>He looked down upon the baby bird..</p><p>Huh. He expected them to be a bit more feathery. Instead, it had huge bulbous eyes that were shut tightly, the eye itself blackened through the pink skin the creature had surrounding it, slimy from the liquid it had incubated in, forming a sort of membrane. The beak looked bigger than its head, and it was probably even heavier than its own body, seeing it couldn't even lift itself up properly. It tried to move, but it trembled as if it was cold. </p><p>Wheatley looked down upon this small.. thing, with a grimace. It was almost gross. As it struggled to move around, the small bits of the nest stuck to its wet membrane. It was unsettling. Nonetheless, he was sure to give a small speech to the little one.</p><p>"Well.. hello! You're a little one, aren't you? Really small. I suppose I’m the one that’s going to have to welcome you to this world, since your mother seems to be.. absent. You can fly about, get some uh.. eat... worms. That’s all I can think of at the moment. but that’s not important right now- you hatched out of your egg and, if I'm honest, that looked like a lot of work. Whew!"</p><p>The small bird attempted to pull itself up, shivering. From it came back a very weak chirp, following up with the end of Wheatley's sentence.</p><p>"Oh! Will you look at you. You are just so brave. Sorry for bothering you about this, know you just hatched and everything, but uh.. I had to ask.. are you copying me? Or, um.. heheh.. did you happen to imitate that sound I just made?"</p><p>The baby bird, once again, chirped lightly, similar to the sigh at the end of the speech he gave.</p><p>"Uh.. wooo! Wooo..?"</p><p>The small bird, once again imitated the robot's make-shift bird noises. Making two small chirps following up with his.</p><p>"Oh..  oh! We.. we are talking, aren't we? Oh! I'm talking to a bird! Haha! Oh that's wonderful. Absolutely mad. Alright, let me try this. Ahhh?"</p><p>The bird didn't make a peep.</p><p>"No ahh? Okay, put that on the list, just woos. Fine by me, wouldn’t have it any other way.. wooo!"</p><p>Wheatley was absolutely ecstatic. It might not have been a person he could actually talk to, but at least he got a response. Once again, the baby bird returned the chirp, but this time, it tilted its head upwards toward the ceiling, widened its mouth, and began chirping repetitively.</p><p>"Wha- what are you doing? Oh bloody- you're not turning yourself inside out or something, are you? Wait.. wait no! You want food, don't you? Okay.. can't help you with that, really sorry."</p><p>The chick continued to whine for the feeding under the false misapprehension he heard his mother, who it thought was the blue-eyed core. Almost as if she had been called upon, the</p><p>mother bird flapped into the room. She was furious, as it cawed angrily upon entering.</p><p>As Wheatley watched as the mother swooped the room, his pupil shrank to a pinprick. He began to nervously dance upon his rail, frantically swinging his spherical body around like a yo-yo. </p><p>"AHH! BIRD! BIRD! HELP! AAHH!!"</p><p>As he swung and slid across his railing, he shut his eye in an attempt to block.. there wasn't that much to block, was there? It felt a bit safer than say, watching it fly around.</p><p>The bird, on the other hand, fluttered equally surprised and anxiously around the core, cawing at the already terrified Wheatley.</p><p>He didn't bother putting up a fight and hurried into the hallway again. He sat beside the entrance, still a bit shaky, and refused to look back inside. Now that was quite the experience. He leaned against the wall next to the door where the nest had been, panting. Now, he couldn't breathe or even have lungs, yet there he was.</p><p>He continued to loiter near the entrance, peeking occasionally to look at the baby bird, but was only returned with a nasty gaze from the mother. He listened as the mother tried to communicate with the chick, entirely caught by surprise, shut its mouth and didn't make a peep. The bird continued to try speaking to the chick, but to no avail. She lowered down and nudged the bird's head slightly with her beak, making sweeter, more firm peeps near its ears. The baby bird just tried to move its head away. The mother rose back up to the edge of the nest and looked down upon the baby bird. She almost looked kind of heartbroken.</p><p>The bird turned towards Wheatley, with a firmer gaze. She cocked her head slightly and readjusted her wings, causing a light ruffle of feathers. Wheatley wasn't able to take the hint that she was kind of lost on what to do, as he was equally confused.</p><p>He peeked again, but this time, the bird seemed to already be looking towards him. He quickly ran back behind in sheer fear. </p><p>"Oh, what does the bloody thing have to do with me? Just fantastic, great. Won't get to see them again.."</p><p>He was frustrated that she had scared him away from the nest, as he wanted to keep talking with the baby bird. He got to see him hatch. He was even deciding on a name. Wheatley looked back over, the bird didn't squawk at him again, and her sight seemed a bit more gentle. She was reminding him of Her. As they stared at each other silently, the mother cawed towards his direction, cocking her head again. She looked towards the baby bird, then back at him before backing up to a different edge of the nest. He finally took notice that she was no longer trying to scare him away. Instead, it looked like she was asking for something.</p><p>As he looked at the bird, determined to figure out what she wanted, he took note of the feathers she wore. They were jet black, but opalescent, showing wonderful dark highlights of blue and purple towards the light. Her eyes were beady like obsidian. She continued to watch him as he slowly approached her nest again.</p><p>"Okay, okay, don't tell me.. maybe? Just a sug- actually, I don't think you can understand me, so.. don't.."</p><p>She began to tense up, fluttering her wings and lowering her upper body, almost as if she was beginning to take off. Her feathers spread like hair did when they were near static, rising up and fluffing her chest in an attempt to look more intimidating. It worked, as he backed away slightly, frightened by her. To bring him back, she let her feathers fall back to her chest, creating a smooth surface that was soft to the touch. Wheatley came a bit closer, nearly silent, keeping a watch on the mother as he approached the nest. She looked towards him again, making a light shrill. He moved further towards her, coming to a halt when he neared the nest.</p><p>The baby was deplorable, making light chirps of despair. The loud cawing from the mother and Wheatley’s shrieks of terror had petrified it into a frozen, shivering state. It attempted to move, climbing onto the other two unhatched eggs. He felt a sort of nausea, not just the one he obtained from the smells in the dormroom, but a dizzying, overwhelming guilt that cling to the back of his processor. The mother turned her attention to him, moving back downwards to the hatchling and positioning her beak to caress the little one’s head, causing it to again, distance it away from the mother’s touch. </p><p>Wheatley finally got the hint, although it was a bit delayed. </p><p>“Alright, I’m just making sure, but...uh.. you want me to talk to it..is that what you’re trying to communicate?”</p><p>The bird continued her glaring, not giving much of a response.</p><p>“You’re ju-- you’re just looking at me. I don’t know what that really means but..”</p><p>He would be getting a response like that very often in the future, unbenounced to him.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes.”</p><p>The blue-eyed core gathered himself again and turned to face the nest.</p><p>“Actually, uh, I can’t do it if you’re watching… heheh.. So if you could just..”</p><p>The bird didn’t budge an inch.</p><p>“You.. can’t understand me, you're a bird. Right."</p><p>He muttered to himself.</p><p>"I’ll just.. Woo?”</p><p>The baby bird chirped back and raised itself significantly, awaiting the next sound. He returned with his fraudulent call until the bird tilted its head upwards and began to beg again. </p><p>The mother bird placed her beak in it’s mouth, feeding it. To a bird, this would have looked completely normal. To Wheatley, it was rather unusual and vile. Nonetheless, he was glad the bird would be okay, although he felt sorry for messing with them so early. The bird stopped feeding and the chick flopped back down into the next, calmly taking small and tiny breaths. It seemed pleased with the meal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Part 3- The Orange Core</strong>
</p><p>Occasionally, he’d check on them. The other two eggs hatched, but neither quite liked Wheatley all too much, but the baby bird he saw hatch became fluffier and bigger, along with their siblings They all seemed accustomed to his presence, although the mother thought the opposite. She seemed to silently detest him, judging quietly and cawing defensively whenever he got too close. Otherwise, the baby bird was getting larger by each day, earning the famous black feathers that the crows usually wore. One day he’d come to see them, and the birds would all be gone, the nest was abandoned. He was disheartened by the sight, but hoped he would see them again.</p><p>He was feeling rather unpleasant today. The birds were gone. He was especially looking forward to seeing them today, but he came to nothing but an empty nest. He left to try to get his mind off of it, exploring yet again another part of the facility where no daylight peeked through from anywhere. Where the only ground for walking on were metal platforms, elevated so high above the ground that it was too foggy to see the bottom. There were the arms of panels bunched up, making make-shift walls. There wasn't really any crack or opening where sunlight came through or was brought, but it was rather nicely illuminated.</p><p>He came upon a locked door.. oh, he'd forgotten the password again. Digging through his memories, he tried to associate some events he'd thought were in the code, to no avail. He'd watched people on the tellys hack, didn't seem too hard.</p><p>"No problem! Master hacker here, here to hack this door open."</p><p>He needed to give himself a burst of confidence to start most of everything. It was a little awkward, but it worked.</p><p>"..Talking to doors.. that’s weird, isn't it?"</p><p>He focused back onto the panel, but not before blinking periodically, almost as if he was awaiting an answer. An answer would not return, of course. Still, it was better than talking to nobody.</p><p>"Uh..yeah, suppose it is... uh.. here, let me say the password. A-A-A-A-A….B?"</p><p>The door didn't even budge. It hollered the same wrong tone, as if it was confirming Wheatley's doubts about himself.</p><p>"No? Okay, A-A-A-A-A...G"</p><p>Again, the machine yelled at the core. Wheatley had known he wouldn't be able to 'hack' it as he said. He didn't even know the first step he had to take to even get in.</p><p>Wheatley began to beg to the machine, something that wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't work, yet here he was.</p><p>"Alright, I get it. You think you can leave me out here, that's fine. But, uh, be a lot better if you let me through. Just a suggestion, take it or leave it.”</p><p>His optic was repeatedly eyeing the panel and back onto the floor expectedly, until he heard a gentle turning of another engine. Now, often, he just assumed it was his own rail making weird sounds, but it began to draw nearer.. and nearer..</p><p>"I don't think that's how you open a door."</p><p>It was a second voice. It startled him slightly. The voice was as clean as his own was, sounding just like a person. It wasn't a scientist.. maybe a test subject? Who was it? Wheatley had never heard it before. It was male, a bit higher pitched than his own, and it sounded his voice processor glitched every time It came upon an 'R' or 'T' in a word, or it could've just been an accent. It was a bit difficult to tell. The voice was lighthearted, almost making fun out of the clueless core.</p><p>He swerved around to meet eye-to-eye with the character opposite to him, and he was rather surprised. He didn't realize it would be another core, although, perhaps he shouldn't have been so shocked. He had never met this one, well, he never really remembered much of anyone. At least the other core had a similar experience as he did at the moment, both strangers to one another.</p><p>The other core was a brilliant orangish maroon, although near his side openings and edges where he bore a yellow streak, the center of the sphere white with two lines of the red. The border around the optic was a wonderful hawiian-esque floral design with the outlines of orange flowers and leaves against a darker colored background. He lacked the usual 3 dots, but a small anti Black Mesa sticker over the area that usually beared the Aperture logo. His optic was the strangest, he'd sworn he saw it before somewhere in the facility. It shone a magnificent yellow and was donut shaped, but there were thick lines that thinned out towards the top of the circle, altogether resembling a logo, perhaps? The core seemed much older than him, as he had many signs of wear and tear on every edge of the paint, slowly invoking the hidden metal underneath. There were even scratches on his optic. Wheatley was glad he didn't have anything like that… yet.</p><p>"Oh..” </p><p>He chuckled nervously.</p><p>“Heheh..yeah, probably not.." Wheatley said, returning his focus to the panel.</p><p>"Do.. do you happen to know the-"</p><p>"Yes, I do." The other interrupted. Wheatley just assumed they were in a hurry or something, seeing as their response was completely uncalled for. </p><p>"Oh! Wonderful, absolutely tremendous. Do you mind opening it then? So we can just.. um.. get through."</p><p>"That’s the plan."</p><p>He moved out of the way so the second core could access the panel. The other nodded slightly, closing his eyelids together as a silent thank-you gesture.</p><p>"There are a LOT of different passwords. But, there's one I'm sure will work perfectly."</p><p>He made a sound as if he was clearing his non-existent throat.</p><p>"Black Mesa sucks."</p><p>The console beeped horrendously, but at least this time it wasn't at the blue core. </p><p>"Darn it. I'll have to hack it."</p><p>"Tried.. hacking it." Wheatley said. It sounded forced.</p><p>"Wouldn't open. No idea what's wrong with it."</p><p>"... Right.." said the orange core back with sarcastic disbelief.</p><p>For a second, there was soft clicking as the yellow-eyed core squinted towards the panel thoughtfully. To Wheatley's surprise, after a second, it rang a fantastic small tune as the center of the door revolved slightly and opened successfully, pulling the other parts into the wall inconspicuously.</p><p>"There! That's how you open a door."</p><p>The core turned back towards the blue-eyed one enthusiastically, but Wheatley was stuck in too much envy and admiration to say anything, for once.</p><p>‘How did he do that?’ Wheatley thought. ‘How did he open the door? Was it some sort of magic? No, it couldn't be. That was ridiculous. All of this is curious, isn't it? You have to ask about his techniques. What did he do first? How did he carry it out? Was there some kind of code he used?’</p><p>He'd lost track of the orange core while he was stuck in awe and wonder. They had already moved a considerable distance away from him. Wheatley contemplated if it would be sensible to try to speak to him and ask him about it. It didn't look like he disliked him.. yet. Perhaps he could finally make a friend out here?</p><p>He zipped across the rail, trying to keep up with the other core, tailing him like he was prey. He eventually caught up and rode on the opposing rail alongside the orange core that were separate from each other.</p><p>"Hey! Sorry for, y'know.. following you, but I was wondering.. how did you happen to hack that door?"</p><p>"Oh.. I.. guess I don't have much of an explanation. It's programmed into my code. I can't help it!"</p><p>He chuckled slightly, although there was a tinge of glumness attached to a sigh that came right after it.</p><p>That sounded pleasant, being able to just do things from the get-go. Wheatley wondered why he didn't just do something like that. Oh, right, he didn't know how to do that either. He could barely focus on a book or task, much less learn how to code anything.</p><p>"Oh! That seems like it'd be useful. Uh.. by any chance, do you think you could tell me just how you did that? No reason, just.. curious. Nothing else. Nothing suspicious. At all. Um.. really interested in this whole hacking thing, that's it."</p><p>"I don't.... it's hard to explain."</p><p>"Well, I'm here to listen! Or you could give me a demonstration or something similar to-"</p><p>"I have to go somewhere. I can't keep her waiting."</p><p>The orange core halted in his trails and squinted towards Wheatley, who abruptly stopped, a bit shaken by the suddenness.</p><p>"Who.. who's 'her'?"</p><p>Wheatley was pretty sure this was what deja vu felt like.</p><p>The other core's eyelid began to clench over his optic.</p><p>"As much as I'd like to hang out and chat, I can't do that right now. I.. I have to go. I'm sorry."</p><p>Wheatley wasn't going to be left alone so easily. Within the first few minutes of meeting him, he'd already become attached. He hadn't talked to anyone in forever, and now this person was leaving? </p><p>He seemed determined, smart, and Wheatley clearly admired his traits, looking up to him as some kind of hero of a sort, coming to take him out of this life into one just a little less alone, yet he barely knew him. </p><p>"Maybe I could come along? I mean, I am a great companion! ...I.. I think. Actually, probably not… I wouldn’t know."</p><p>The orange core turned away for a second to contemplate something before returning eye contact with him.</p><p>"If we ever see each other again, we'll talk, okay? What's your name?" The orange core inquired.</p><p>"Oh! It's Wheatley."</p><p>"Virgil."</p><p>Virgil's lower eyelid raised above his optic, blinked, and swerved back to the rail and trailing off into the separate path it followed, contrasting the one Wheatley had rode on.</p><p>"Uh, ok! Bye!"</p><p>He just couldn't believe what had happened, and so fast. He really, <em>really</em> wanted to see him again. He'd just have to be patient, as always.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Part 3- Lost in Words</strong>
</p><p>Today was a lot more eventful than any others he could remember. He met another core, where did he go anyway? What was the core’s name again? Something with a V.. Vincent? It had a G.. Virginia? No, that’s not a name for a core. Or.. was it? Oh, he would worry about it later.</p><p>The blue core opened up the database for something new to read. There was a variety of options, most of them he already read, multiple times over. He wanted something new, associating this day with something sparkling and pristine. Looking through the several names, he had brief memories of the stories they held inside. Most stories didn’t make a lick of sense, though. Harry Potter was a guilty pleasure. He related deeply with the loneliness and neglect he had suffered, and wished a large bearded man-- well, anyone at this point, to drag him away from Aperture and to a magical world he never knew existed. He kept worrying he was reading them the right order and had been procrastinating about continuing to read the series, as he'd be stuck there for hours with this optic glued to the pages. That’s if he even finished the story.</p><p>He’d always lose track, forget, or get distracted and read over the same part again, even if he was giving it his full attention. Everything just seemed to try to make him ignore the story, but maybe if he found something a bit more straightforward, it'd be nice to read it. Too many pages and paragraphs overwhelmed him, but too little of substance was bound to get him lost in his thoughts again. He simply couldn’t be pleased by mostly anything. Well.. what about an epic? </p><p>He hadn’t read one before, but remembered someone mentioning it earlier in a movie he was watching. There were some options. If he were being blunt, he’d admit he didn’t even know what an epic really was, but from what he could see simply by the titles, they looked almost like mythology or something. He had to admit- the magic intrigued him. They all seemed to be filled to the brim with it. One stood out to him, Odyssey. He began to read.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story</p>
  <p>of that man skilled in all ways of contending,</p>
  <p>the wanderer, harried for years on end,</p>
  <p>after he plundered the stronghold</p>
  <p>on the proud sight of Troy.”</p>
</blockquote><p>For some odd reason, that made no sense to him. He tried again to understand anything. Nothing seemed comprehendable in the least bit. He kept rereading it, hoping to understand it a bit more. His mind was too barren, for once. There was nothing there each time he tried to understand even the first sentence. He hoped maybe the next line would be a bit more welcoming, so he attempted to move on.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men.</p>
  <p>and weathered many bitter nights and days</p>
  <p>in his deep heart at the sea, while he fought only </p>
  <p>to save his life, to bring his shipmates home.</p>
  <p>But not by will nor valor could he save them, </p>
  <p>for their own recklessness destroyed them all-”</p>
</blockquote><p>Recklessness..</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“children and fools, they killed and feasted on”</p>
</blockquote><p>Reck-less-ness… reck-leck-ness…</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“the cattle of Lord Helios, the Sun.”</p>
</blockquote><p>Reck-leck-nesses.. Reck-leck-niss..</p><p>He lost where he was. He was barely reading anything. It continued to make little to no sense. Some bloke named Helios had cattle or something? He was reading, all right, but the meanings of the words just got put aside. He tried to recall what he just read.. He couldn’t. He couldn’t comprehend anything. It was only the beginning, though. He could get further.. Right?</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“and he who moves all day through heaven</p>
  <p>took from their eyes the dawn of their return.”</p>
</blockquote><p>He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If anything, it felt tedious. He closed the page that was open and resumed searching through the catalogues for something different. It made him feel kind of dumb for not really enjoying that sort of literature. Like he needed more self-deprecation. He turned away and looked around the relaxation center.</p><p>He wasn’t even sure he even really had a job. He tried to avoid getting caught up in an issue like that. He had his doubts, though. He listened to the same people who thought that putting people in cryosleep for years on end would be humane in any way, or that they’d give him the ability to smell and have him work with hobos or just people with horrendous stenches in general. That smell would be something he’d never forget. They called them “People that nobody would care about.” since everyone else, astronauts, Olympians, and other people of such, kept dying due to the tests. He didn’t want to take his chances and kill another in fear he’d lose the only job that he’d be able to keep.</p><p>There was a small sign he was reading off that he had looked at regularly, and usually, they seemed accurate</p><p>He wasn’t very keen on asking anyone what it meant, knowing that the response would be along the lines of, ‘If you do that, you’ll die.’. Wheatley wasn’t about to risk his life. The idea of dying seemed worse than being alive. Heaven and Hell seemed like a ridiculous thing for him to believe in, as he often wondered if that guy in the sky hated him or something.</p><p>The panel projected one last person asleep. He had stared at the picture for a very, very long time, contemplating if waking them would be a good idea. What would they do once they were awake? Would they be angry? Confused? Brain damaged, for sure. They’ve been in a coma for ages, who knew what kind of stuff happens to their head? ..A doctor. A doctor would know. Good thing they’re all dead, isn’t it?</p><p>He had seen 5 other humans die within minutes because they couldn’t conform to the changes in their internal organs quick enough. It was depressing, just watching them in their last moments, suffering. He would politely try to say something inspirational to try to help them work through it, but it failed and just made the situation worse. To think the last one would do the same frightened him, as If they did the same.. well, he didn't want to think about that.</p><p>He tried to take his mind off of it by moving back to the interface, and looking through the movies. He enjoyed movies about superheroes and spies, mainly things along those lines. Dashing rogues, powerful heroes, gallant knights, clever detectives and..</p><p>He looked back at the panel. Would he ever wake them up? ‘I mean.. That’s my job, right?’ he thought. He was supposed to wake them up and guide them. Where would he guide them to was a question he’d been trying to recall the answer to. Wheatley totally forgot ages ago. </p><p>Maybe he should just watch a movie. Yeah. just a mo--</p><p>Suddenly, the interface started to flicker frantically. Wheatley fought his own fright, unsuccessfully, as he whimpered quietly at the sight. In a demand to know what was going on, he gathered all his willpower to retain his anxiety. The lights began to go out, a shuddering huge “CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.” Every click made the facility darker, and darker, and everything was falling into blacks and grays. The atmosphere was dragging along gloom and the grime, causing them to appear more evidently in the dark.</p><p>He focused back on the panel, still flashing, until a message tried to gleam brightly through the occasional flickering of the screen. </p><p>“EVACUATE FACILITY IMMEDIATELY. POWER SUPPLY DEPLETED. DESTRUCTION IMMINENT."</p><p>Oh..<em> oh no</em>. The power was all going out. Now it was certain that the subject was going to die, same for him as well. The whole place was going to collapse upon itself. Explode. Oh god, he had to get out of there as fast as possible. What was he to do, though?</p><p>You have an excuse to wake them up! They’d be the first company you’ve had in a while. Imagine if they did survive. You’d be a hero! Go and wake them up! </p><p>Every minute thinking about it made it seem more and more irresistible.        </p><p>You don’t want to be alone anymore, do it. Your purpose is to wake them up. Do it. Wake them up. What’s the worst that could happen?</p><p>Oh no, now he was thinking about the worst thing that could happen. One, they could DIE, not a preferable outcome, two, they’d be too brain damaged and become unable to move or anything and die. Also not an appealing ending. Three, they could actually survive, but what would be the chances of that? None, nearly. Probably. Most likely.</p><p>He was afraid to take the risk. The longer he left them, the better chance they’d die, right? He was overthinking everything, the suddenness of everything overwhelmed him, putting himself into a state of panic.</p><p>He impulsively woke up the test subject in sleep, hoping he wouldn’t regret it too badly.</p><p>“G-G-G-Good morning you’ve been in suspension for nine-nine-nine-nine-nine”</p><p>Wheatley had to attend to his newly awakened test subject right now, or they would both die.</p>
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